Trent knocked on the door to the Brownstone and grinned. He thought he had them now. They would never be able to transform the house from its former state into a married couple's home in such a short amount of time.
Joan opened the door with a smile. "Hello, Trent." Her gaze drifted to the man standing behind Trent. "You are?"
"Noah Cambride." Noah stepped out from behind Trent and smiled. "I'm Trent's boss. He asked me to accompany him to search your home…I hope that's quite alright." Noah outstretched his hand to her.
Joan shook his hand. "Of course it's alright. The more the merrier!" Joan motioned for them to come inside and they obliged. Once they were inside, Joan shut the door and took their coats to hang up.
"Where's Sherlock?" Trent asked with a smirk. Probably hiding from the truth, Trent thought to himself.
"My husband is getting dressed into more suitable clothes." Joan shot a glare in Trent's direction when Noah was observing some photos in the parlor. Truth is, Sherlock was upstairs- not getting dressed- but instead, he was finishing adding his stuff to Joan's room. They had spent all afternoon combining their rooms, taking apart Sherlock's bed, and taking photos to put on the walls. While Sherlock was upstairs taking apart the bed, Joan had been hanging the photos of them hugging and had even gone so far as to change the computer's desktop background to a photo of them cuddling and Sherlock kissing Joan's cheek. Now, Joan thought, the house seemed to be a married home. Hopefully Noah thought that too.
"Where was this?" Noah asked, holding up a photo of Sherlock and Joan smiling wide and sitting on the couch.
"My place. It was on the day he asked me to marry him." Joan smiled lovingly at the photo. It was actually a photo of them on the day Sherlock asked Joan to be his partner. The happiest day of Joan's life…
"He asked you at your house?" Trent asked suspiciously.
"No, of course not. He took me to the opera and then we went to dinner after. He got down on one knee in front of the whole restaurant and proposed. It was the happiest day of my life." Joan repeated the story she and Sherlock had rehearsed before Trent and Noah arrived.
"I'm sorry to keep you waiting." Sherlock spoke as he descended the stairs. He outstretched his hand to Noah and smiled, "I'm Sherlock Holmes, and you are?"
"Noah Cambride." He shook Sherlock's hand and replicated his smile.
"So what are we talking about?" Sherlock looked at Joan and arched his brows.
"I was just telling them about the happiest day of my life." Joan nodded towards the photo.
"You mean the happiest day of our lives." Sherlock walked over to Joan kissed her cheek.
This time, Joan didn't freeze up.
"I don't see why Trent thinks you two are lying," Noah glanced at Trent, "but we've got to make sure. Cover all our bases, if you will." Noah laughed.
"Baseball fan?" Joan laughed back.
"How did you know?" Noah joked.
"Yankee's or Met's?" Joan asked. She was really getting into the conversation. She didn't have anyone close to her to talk about sports with, seeing as she never saw her friends anymore and Sherlock didn't care for baseball.
"Met's." Noah grinned.
"Yes! Finally! Sherlock doesn't like to watch with me, he says it's too predictable." Joan rolled her eyes.
"Can we get back to the house search, please?" Trent interrupted.
"Oh, yes. Sorry. Got a little off track there." He looked to Sherlock, "Would you like to begin the tour?"
"Where do we start?" Sherlock took Joan's hand in his.
"How about here in the hallway? Explain some of these photos to us." Noah gestured towards the pictures on the walls in the hallway.
"I don't remember seeing these the last time I was here…" Trent spoke as he took in the wall of photos.
"You really didn't get to be in the hallway. You entered the kitchen from the parlor, not the hallway." Joan thought up the lie quickly. She forgot that he had been in the house before.
"Hmm." Trent eyed the pictures suspiciously. "I don't see any wedding photos…"
"That's right…Where are they?" Noah asked.
"Uh…I thought that I put them out…" Joan stuttered. She looked to Sherlock for help.
"Put them out…? What do you mean?" Noah asked, now suspicious.
"Um…Trent wanted proof so I…uh…found them and put them out. They're here somewhere." Joan pretended to look through a stack of photos by the bookshelf.
Trent smirked. He had them.
Sherlock noticed that Joan was struggling and needed him. "He did want proof. I told Joan to find them and put them out."
Noah looked back and forth between them. He turned to look at Trent. "Did you ask for proof?"
"Yes, but do you see them? I sure don't." Trent crossed his arms.
"Are they out here or not?" Noah looked to Joan.
"I can't seem to find them…" Joan looked through the stack of photos again. Her hands were shaking and she tried to hide it by shuffling the pictures in her hand.
"No proof then." Trent pointed out.
"True. Can you give us any proof other than a marriage certificate?" Noah asked, arms crossed.
Sherlock looked at Joan. She was frozen with a 'deer caught in the headlights' look. "No, but we could find the pictures and call you when we do…"
Noah was about to tell them that that was alright when Trent butt in.
"If we leave, they're just going to take some photos and pass them off as their wedding photos from two months ago." Trent blurted out. "They're lying! They are committing fraud! Can't you see it? It's so obvious!"
Joan's hand gripped Sherlock so tight that Joan was sure Sherlock was in pain. If he was, he didn't show it.
"Now I can see why you think that they are lying Trent." Noah looked at the two consulting detectives standing before him. "This is the time to confess. Trust me, it'll be better for you to do it sooner rather than later. If you continue to lie, the punishment will be worse. So? What do you say? Are you ready to confess?"
"We're married. We don't have photos right now to show you and I'm sorry about that. I can promise you that we are, indeed, married. What can we do to show you that we are not lying?" Sherlock let Joan's hand go and flexed his fingers. Her grip was strong and his hand had begun to cramp.
Joan felt her body shaking. This is it. We're dead. I'm going to die in jail.
"You're not married and we both know it. Time to give up on this little charade Sherlock." Trent smiled menacingly.
Joan had heard enough. It was time to stand up for herself and Sherlock. "There is no charade. I love my husband more than anything in the world. He is my life and I cannot bear to lose him. Please, I'm begging you to believe us. I don't know how to make you believe us, but I'll do anything to help you." She looked at Noah. "Please."
"There is a solution…if you really are married…" Noah looked at Trent.
"What? You're helping them?" Trent was mad.
"Of course not. If they really have been married, they wouldn't mind doing it again, would they?" Noah looked to Joan for an answer.
"Do what again?" Joan asked nervously.
Sherlock turned to Joan. "I believe he wants us to get married, again."
"That's not a problem…is it?" Trent smirked.
Sherlock glared at Trent.
Joan felt that all eyes were on her and she didn't like it. Say yes and continue to dig themselves into a hole of lies that could eventually get them caught and sent to jail or say no and go to jail right away. She looked from Sherlock to Trent to Noah. She took a deep breath and made a decision.
"It's not a problem." Joan looked to Sherlock. "Let's get married…again."
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